


The Midnight Well

by TobyHansbmd



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Celtic Thunder, Culprit Reveal, F/M, Few days before the game starts, Game 24: The Captive Curse, Songfic, Spoilers at the end of the story, Storytime with Renate, because what else do I write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobyHansbmd/pseuds/TobyHansbmd
Summary: Castle Finster possess its own unique folklore: a range of fairy tales and legends that add to its charm. Too bad no one's particularly interested in them. What is it that everyone wants to talk about? The Monster. Enter Renate to remind the townsfolk of the rich, narrative history they're allowing to disappear. All the audience she gets is Anja and Lukas. For now, that's enough. Songfic to Celtic Thunder's "Midnight Well."
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	The Midnight Well

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is another songfic (because have I been writing anything else lately?) and it's based off a song called "Midnight Well." It's an original number by Irish composer, Phil Coulter, written for Celtic Thunder's musical theatre-ish production, Storm. In the show, vocalist Ryan Kelly plays the Gypsy King and seduces a young woman. When I was putting together my songfic list, I thought it was a shame that we never get to hear Renate tell any of her stories in CAP and this would be a great one. It's mostly Renate telling Lukas a bedtime story, but I gave it some plot as well to make the whole of Castle Finster seem a bit more rounded.
> 
> Here's a link to the song on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETxDvOTSoGI&list=PL86Kcu40r80g-jrTh-Bkbg-iNTku3xwQE&index=11&t=0s
> 
> This is the last of my Nancy Drew fics originally on ff.net that I'm moving over here before I start writing new things again. It's the same story as on ff.net but with spelling and grammar mistakes corrected, and one paragraph rewritten to correct a plot point. Enjoy!

If you lived in or around Castle Finster, you could hardly fail to be acquainted with the Monster.

To any outsiders who came to the town (of which there weren’t very many), it was surprising just how many people believed in said creature. To others it appeared as just another story, which (except for the happy ending) was filled with almost every fairytale archetype. Something meant to frighten the children into behaving perhaps, or something to tell the occasional traveler who stopped at the inn for the night. But it soon became clear to anyone visiting that it was more than that. One inkling, a strange claw mark somewhere in the forest, and people would lock and bar their doors and windows every night and lie awake, waiting to hear confirmation of the beast’s presence, which they always found.

The legend of the Monster and the missing girls, and in particular the first girl he had taken, the Freiherr’s daughter, was so widely discussed and reiterated so many times, that it had eclipsed other stories local to the area. Over the years, it had even reached the point that if something even remotely out of place occurred, the Monster was somehow involved, even if it wasn’t. If a sheep went missing, it was because the creature had returned, not because there might be a person hiding in the woods trying to steal some wool. That there was, or could be, a more rational explanation very rarely occurred to the castle’s residents, and the few times someone did think of one, they found it even more frightening and chose blindly to believe in the monster legend.

Every town, every village, every city has its own assortment of local folklore, and while the castle possessed its own very rich narrative tradition, the citizenry continually failed to maintain it.

That there were other stories to tell was a fact that people were slowly but steadily beginning to forget. No one remembered the story about the man who killed the bear said to have been larger than normal due to a magic spell; instead they talked about the Burgermeister from a century ago who tried to trap the Monster and not only failed miserably, but found the next day that his youngest and most precious daughter had vanished.

No one recalled that one midsummer evening, the god of mischief’s annual celebration to be exact, when the poor village girl found the love of her life thinking that he was just another commoner only to discover that he was a duke. Instead, they thought of the girl who went to meet her love for a secret rendezvous in the woods, wearing the ruby necklace he had given her as an engagement present, and all that was found was her footprints near a tree covered in claw marks. 

No ancient heroes, only one invincible terror, and the damsels in distress fell into an oblivion from which true love’s kiss couldn’t return them.

This was one of quite a few problems that Renate Stoller was there to solve.

Renate knew all the stories even remotely associated with the Monster. She knew of every sighting, every sign, every whisper of a hint of an appearance, and with each new occurrence, she would immediately arrive at the castle to investigate. She knew it was a lost cause; at her age it wasn’t like she could do anything to stop the Monster from appearing again, let alone help catch it. Still, she knew she would feel a sense of satisfaction in helping someone else do so.

Something else she had begun doing in recent years, however, was attempt to revitalize interest in the old stories, the ones before and immediately after the castle’s construction, and certainly before the Monster began striking fear into the hearts of the locals. Many of the townsfolk didn’t listen to her, all they wanted to hear about was the horror wandering the forest paths. She had more luck telling these archaic stories to the rest of Germany but not so much Castle Finster, even though these tales were as much a part of their history as the Monster. At this particular point in time, no one was really venturing about the castle unless they had to; they were in the middle of another monster sighting, and everyone was in the process of fortifying their homes.

Renate had really begun to hate coming to Castle Finster. She wanted to put her sister’s soul to rest and move on. She loved storytelling, it had always been her true passion, but what she wanted more than anything was to go someplace else and forget the Monster ever existed. That was a lost cause as well. As long as the dreaded beast was still around, she would never be able to really move on, no matter how hard she tried.

There was only one thing she liked about the castle these days…well, two things really: Anja and Lukas. Despite how much she detested the citadel itself, she was almost fond of both of them, mostly because she deemed them to be the castle’s only sensible inhabitants. This was saying something since Lukas was only about ten years old and had a habit of playing pranks on people, which she detested and which she had quickly ensured would never happen to her again – threatening a child with no ice cream and Black Forest Cake did wonders for their motivation. When he sat quietly and asked for a story though, he turned into quite a charming little boy, and he was always eager for a story. Whenever she arrived, she would usually find him waiting in the dining room, looking at her expectantly and she would smile, sit down by the fire and ask how he had been before launching into whichever story he asked for. She suspected Anja always reminded him to behave, but again, Anja had a sensible head on her shoulders and a good head for business. She always provided intelligent conversation and fresh opinions, and often provided free snacks from the gift shop (though Renate had to work hard not to fall asleep after eating some of them). 

This particular night, she was alone. She had determined that morning that today would be devoted to her entire repertoire of stories involving this part of the country, and she was contemplating using them not just for her advantage but for the villagers’. Anja had told her about the castle’s owner, Markus, and his recent attempts to drum up publicity for the place. He was within the next week to hold a festival, mostly revolving around the Monster. Markus saw this as a way of getting tourists in; Renate saw this as an opportunity to share some of her stories. Visitors would have a more rounded trip to the castle, while locals would learn their own history.

She reached down into her bag and pulled out a journal she had kept over the years of all the stories about this area that she knew, none of which involved the Monster. There really were some beautiful pieces: heroic men and fair maidens, sprites and elves and witches and all the usual fairytale elements. One particular story caught her attention and she chuckled. “I haven’t thought of this one in a long time,” she murmured.

“Renate!”

She smiled, looking up at the boy’s excited cry.

“Lukas, don’t run! And do not shout! Renate is busy reading!” Anja followed after her little nephew, admonishing him lightly for disturbing the lady’s peace.

“It is no matter, Anja. Come sit down, both of you.” Renate gestured to the chair opposite her. Anja sat down with a sigh, opening her arms to receive Lukas as he jumped up into her lap.

“Sorry to bother you, but he wants a story before I put him to bed,” Anja explained.

“No bother. Tell me, young man, what story would you like to hear?”

“A story about the Monster!” Lukas said at once. Anja rolled her eyes and cast an exasperated look at Renate, who just smiled back. Both women knew each other’s feelings about the Monster, which was why the topic was never mentioned between them unless it couldn’t be avoided. Contrary to the rest of the town, Anja had a very open mind, and was trying to instill the same characteristic in her nephew. And, Renate realized, Lukas was young enough she might be able to plant the seed of interest in his mind about some of the other stories.

“Did you know that there are stories that predate the Monster?”

“What does that mean?” asked Lukas, scrunching up his face in uncertainty.

“It means that this place has other legends from before the Monster. You’ve just never heard any of them.”

“Really? Like what?” The boy was bouncing in his seat now. Unlike other children his age, Lukas loved hearing, seeing, and trying new things. He said it was because it gave him new ideas for practical jokes, but Anja and Renate suspected it gave him a sense of being somebody. The absence of other children his own age in the castle had resulted in an extremely lonely childhood thus far and if he tried new things, it would give him more to talk about if and when he ever made a friend.

“Well, let me think,” Renate sighed, casting her mind over the many stories she knew. “There’s the one about the magical white wolf, and there’s the one…”

She began listing off every story she could think of that pertained to the lands around the castle, but Lukas couldn’t pick the one he wanted to hear first. To his imagination, all sounded fascinating, but being asked to choose one was like being asked to choose one treat from the candy store. It was then he noticed the journal sitting on Renate’s lap, the page opened to yet another story. Before either woman could stop him, he hopped off Anja’s lap and reached for the book.

“Lukas!” Anja warned. “You do not go through other people’s belongings. I’ve taught you better manners than that!”

Renate began to take up the notes, but Lukas saw the page anyway. “Who’s Gretchen?” he asked, completely ignoring Anja’s reprimand.

“Ah, the Midnight Well,” Renata smiled. “Gretchen was a girl who disappeared many years ago, not because of the monster. It was said she was captured by an evil spirit who manifested itself in the form of a gypsy man.”

She knew she had a captive audience now. Lukas said nothing, but rather climbed up on Renate’s lap, got himself comfortable, and stared up at her with wide, expecting eyes and an adorable smile you just couldn’t say no to. Anja, in spite of herself, was interested also, even though she knew that something so fanciful as an evil spirit was less plausible than the Monster. A gypsy man though…that was something concrete she could see appearing in the village centuries ago.

Renate smiled and began the story. “This was about two hundred years ago,” she said. “As you may expect, everyone knew of the monster and everyone believed in it. It was a time of relative calm though; the monster had not made an appearance in several years. Many were beginning to suspect it had moved on to another home. We know now that was not the case, don’t we?” She gave Lukas a little smirk, making him nod his head in agreement, even though those words tore at Renate’s heart. “In the castle lived a young maiden called Gretchen, who was widely regarded as the fairest maiden ever to dwell in Castle Finster,” Renate continued. “Those who felt comfortable enough to joke about such things,” and here she spoke with an edge to her voice, “told her parents they would have to watch closely over her because she would make a good target for the monster.” Lukas and Anja exchanged a look, both noticing the sharpness in their friend’s voice, but neither said anything. Anja watched the older lady warily, wondering if she was going to have to quickly change the subject, but fortunately, that turned out not to be the case.

“However, one night when she went for some water, it wasn’t the monster who had his eyes on her,” Renate continued, the edge beginning to drop. “She had no way of knowing that the entire course of her destiny had just altered forever.”

\--

_Gretchen wasn’t what you’d call a typical resident of Castle Finster._

_While she believed in the monster and was always careful when she was out by herself, she also believed there was a world beyond the castle, and it was her heart’s one desire to see it. She had always gone about things her own way, preferring the company of books to other human beings. That did not mean, however, that she was timid. On the contrary, she was headstrong and independent, which is why it got on her nerves whenever her mother brought up the subject of her settling down. She knew eventually she would have to contemplate marriage and that there were a few gentlemen in the village who wanted to ask for her hand, but she found them…well, to put it nicely, dull._

_The truth was that she found everything about the village dull. She had even gotten to the point that she found the monster legend dull. She’d been six years old the last time anyone had seen or heard something that might be it, and she remembered hiding in her room with her younger sister, Bertha, holding each other, trembling and waiting for the night to pass. Now, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that if people wanted to be free from the creature, they should just get up and leave. But it seemed to be an unspoken rule, no one left the castle grounds._

_“Well, we’ll see about that,” she said to herself as she went to the door of her home. She stepped out into the courtyard and walked to the well with the intention of getting hers and Bertha’s nightly drinking water, humming a small melody under her breath as she went. Her eyes had long since stopped taking in anything else about the courtyard, nothing changed from night to night. Therefore, she didn’t see the shadow that only just reached a hair outside that of the hay wagon a few feet from her door. She merely lowered the bucket into the water, heard the splash as it submerged and proceeded to pull it back up. Her head was so far in the clouds, thinking of trips to far off cities, that she didn’t notice a movement behind her._

_“Gretchen!” Bertha called from inside the house._

_As she turned around to face her door, a shadow caught her eye and her head whipped around to face the wagon. She could’ve sworn…something had moved, she was sure of it. No, she had been listening to the monster stories too much. She chuckled to herself and, carrying the now full bucket of water, she proceeded back up the steps to her home, locking the door behind her._

_She spent the rest of the evening and the next morning wondering whether or not she’d imagined the occurrence. She supposed the next night would confirm it, but she wasn’t holding her breath. The day passed slowly, and just past sundown she ventured out into the courtyard for her errand. She’d only just stepped outside when her foot hit something sitting less than a foot from the door. She looked down; a small set of five steps led from her home down to the courtyard and sitting on the third step, was a red rose. She leant down to pick it up; attached was a piece of paper with her name written in elegant letters across it._

_“Where did this come from?” she asked. It was rather romantic, a secret admirer leaving her flowers. Only trouble was, no one in the castle was particularly romantic. Certainly no one had ever left her flowers before, even though all had known for years that she was always the last one out at the well every night. She retrieved the water, went back inside and snatched a cup out of the kitchen, taking her entire armful back to her and her sister’s room. She placed the rose beside the bed and lay awake for the rest of the night, trying and failing to reason out who in the castle would leave her an anonymous rose._

_Over the following two nights, two more roses appeared on the doorstep. She was becoming more and more curious, as was Bertha whose inquisitive nature manifested itself in the form of teasing. She had to keep herself from skipping to the door that evening, water bucket in hand. But her smile quickly fell as she saw no rose sitting on the step. Trying to contain her disappointment, she walked quickly the few steps to the well, and, her mind searching for something to complain about, muttered to herself just how ridiculous the castle residents were. Besides one of them leading her on, they really were just a bunch of cowards. Even during relatively safe times, they kept all the lanterns burning every night just in case. What good would that do really? Did they think that excessive lights, besides wasting coal and oil, would really keep the Monster away?_

_As the bucket lowered into the water, she heard a sound at one of the doors opposite her and she jerked her head up only to see a neighbor’s cat chasing a mouse. She sighed and, silently scolding her own imagination, returned her attention to her task. As she turned back towards her home, she stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. Sitting in the middle of the steps was her rose. Her eyes scanned the vicinity, but all they saw was the hay wagon. Remembering the movement she’d thought she’d seen a few nights earlier, she smirked, picked up the rose, and skipped back into the house, her good mood restored._

_On the sixth night, she closed the door and walked down the steps, looking as though everything was normal. Tonight, however, she had no intention of merely running her errand. She knew she ought to be frightened; she had made subtle inquiries around the town and quickly realized that no one there was leaving her flowers. Either that or someone was a very good actor, but she didn’t believe that for a moment. Hardly anyone in the place had any sort of imagination. That her admirer was an outsider who had somehow seen her should have terrified her worse than a monster sighting, but it didn’t. She couldn’t really explain why, only that it was too romantic._

_She walked slightly closer to the wagon, then asked, in a voice just loud enough to reach someone only a few feet away, “may I have my rose?” She proceeded on to the well and when she turned back around, a man was leaning against the wagon. The most handsome man she had ever seen. His hair was as black as the coal burning in the lamps, and there was a single gold hoop in his left ear. What struck her most was his piercing dark eyes, eyes that looked as though they could look into your soul and read your every thought with just one glance. Even though they both knew he was walking on thin ice, he still didn’t look afraid. He just grinned and held the rose out to her. Gretchen flashed him a charming smile back and plucked the rose from his fingers with a “thank you,” before skipping lightly into the house. She heard him chuckle and turned back around for another look, but he was already gone. Her eyes widened, not quite believing anyone could move so silently and so quickly as to have already left the castle grounds. Perhaps this man was something she had imagined after all. Perhaps she would tell Bertha the castle was haunted just to get a rise out of her._

_The next morning, however, she knew she hadn’t imagined anything._

_The guard just outside the gatehouse, who was reeking of ale this night as he was every other night, had woken with a loud snort just as the stranger exited the grounds. He heard some branches cracking in the woods, and looked over, wondering if it was just an animal or perhaps the Monster. His mind still muddled by sleep and ale, it didn’t register to the guard at first what exactly he was seeing. All he saw was the light from the torch at the entrance reflecting off a man’s eyes, creating a chasm of fire within the dark pools, one that would swallow you up and burn you to cinders with just a look. The guard sat there, hypnotized, then fell back under the spell of the alcohol coursing through his system. He only caught one more glance of the fire-brimmed eyes and the gold earring, both moving back into the forest, before falling back asleep._

_The next morning, the entire town had heard about the spirit living in the woods near the castle. The guard told everyone in the tavern how he had seen a malevolent being, a demon with fire eyes, coal black hair and an evil sneer leaving the castle. He swore it had taken the shape of a man to frighten him, and had darted into the woods in the direction of the old well._

_Those who didn’t believe him before certainly believed him now. Centuries before, the townsfolk had gotten their water from an old well just off the beaten path in the woods, but legend had long since had it that the well was evil, that it hid a gateway into the spirit world, and that anyone who went near it was marked for capture. The gate opened every month on the full moon and the chosen person would then be drawn back to it at midnight and would never be seen again. Upon building the castle, the first thing done had been to build a new well in the center of the courtyard to keep the people safe. It was even said that the Monster had come through, but it appeared so intermittently and since no one went near the old well anymore, that part of the legend had quickly died out._

_That night, Gretchen pleaded a headache and retired immediately after dinner. Neither parent noticed the look that passed between the sisters as they embraced and kissed each other good night. When Bertha came to bed later that evening, the window was open and Gretchen was gone._

_It was quiet. Quiet and peaceful and serene. On the surface, it appeared as just another late September evening, still relatively warm from the summer, but with just a slight nip in the air. The wind was light and almost caressing, the full moon shone brightly in the sky, and the coo of a nightingale could be heard nearby. Despite the tranquility of the evening, the thud of Gretchen’s feet hitting the earth paralleled her rapidly-beating heart. She ran as quickly as she dared, not wanting to attract attention from either an animal or someone unsavory who might also be in the woods. A small part of her brain reminded her of the Monster, but she shook it off and kept going. She walked for about ten minutes, then came out into a clearing. There it was, the Midnight Well. She had never actually been to this part of the woods, but she knew the old myths well enough. Her parents had told her where the well was so that she didn’t accidentally stumble across it in the woods, and had warned her to keep away from it, which, of course, only made her more curious to see it as a child. Unfortunately for her, her parents guarded her and Bertha like hawks when they were children, and neither was ever allowed past the gatehouse alone under any circumstances, and their window was always barred at night. They had only stopped these protective measures when they were sure the girls were old enough to not sneak out of the house on a whim._

_She approached the well cautiously. A large black horse stood next to it, the man sitting astride it. His eyes softened as she came closer._

_“Are you sure?” he asked._

_“Yes,” she whispered back, a smile spreading across her face._

_“Well then, come away,” he grinned, holding a hand out to her. “Come and ride with me into the night.”_

_She took his hand and allowed him to pull her into the saddle._

\--

“Neither of them were ever seen again,” Renate whispered dramatically. “The next morning, Gretchen’s parents found a note on her bed saying she had a rendezvous out at the Midnight Well, and sent a search party out to find her. She was gone and never left a trace. After that, all people could speak of was the gateway to the fairy world and how it had taken another victim after centuries of lying dormant. Even to this day, if you go into the woods towards the well with the harvest moon glowing in the sky, they say that you will see the black horse appear and the ghost of the gypsy will ride by.”

“Wow!” Lukas exclaimed as the tale came to a close. “That was great!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, little one,” Renate smiled.

“Are there more stories like this?” he asked, bouncing excitedly in Renate’s lap.

She nodded. “There are many. There’s the story of how the well became the gate, there are other of magical creatures, daring battles, all exciting.” Seeing Lukas’ excited grin, she laughed and said, “but that is a story for another night, mein kind.” She laughed again at the disappointed “awwww!” that spilled from the little boy’s mouth, and continued, “now, I think it is past your bedtime.”

“It is,” Anja nodded. “Lukas, what do you say?”

“Thank you for the story!” he piped up obediently, then bid Renate good night as Anja led him off to his room.

Renate settled back in her chair and smiled. It had felt nice to tell that story. It had felt nice to think of something that didn’t have to do with the Monster at all, especially where Castle Finster was concerned. She cast her mind over the story she had just told. It was very romantic, no doubt having undergone several retellings over the years. She turned the page in her journal. Between the story where the Midnight Well ended and the next one began were two folded pieces of paper, the one the original letter Gretchen had written to her parents about her rendezvous, and the second a page from Bertha’s diary saying how she missed her sister so much since she had run away with the gypsy man. A descendant of Bertha’s had given them to Renate many years before when she was still learning about the castle’s history. She knew there was some grain of truth behind it; more than likely that Gretchen and the man had spent more time together than that before leaving, that she had probably left with the stranger and joined his caravan of travelers rather than be whisked away to another dimension. More than likely as well, the other residents had realized that and organized a more thorough search but the caravan would have already departed. But it would have given her the chance to leave the castle walls and be with someone she loved. The tale as it went now was still very romantic.

Renate leaned her head back and closed her eyes, sighing in contentment. She thought of only two things as she began to doze off: 1) which story she would tell Lukas tomorrow night, and 2) if Anja would be willing to split a piece of chocolate cake with her after putting the boy to bed.

\--

A couple hours later found Anja walking through the gatehouse and into the woods. She often took evening strolls these days, it helped her to think. The festival was set to begin in a few days. The current monster sighting had caused residents to shut themselves in, but ticket sales were skyrocketing.

Apparently, monsters could sell.

She checked her hiding spot and found her monster costume lying right where she had left it. She smirked; she’d clean Markus’ clock with this as the Americans said. He had a girl, some teenage detective, coming in to investigate the monster sightings, and from the moment Markus had announced it, the girl had become the unwitting pawn in Anja’s plan. All she needed to make the festival a success was the girl in the dress. The authentic ruby necklace wouldn’t hurt either, but no one had seen it in years.

She took a long way back to the castle, deciding to take a few extra minutes to plan things in her mind. Not that she needed to, she had gone over her plan dozens of times already, but she needed everything to be perfect.

She was so lost in her musings that she almost didn’t notice where she was. A bird taking flight nearby startled her out of her thoughts and she looked up with a jolt to realize she was standing beside the Midnight Well. Weeds had grown all over it and the water within it was by no means drinkable anymore, but it still stood even after all these years. Anja shook her head and turned back towards the castle.

Then she heard it. A hoof beat behind her.

She looked up into the sky. The harvest moon. She checked her watch. It was midnight on the dot. She turned slowly around as the hoof beats came closer and she saw it, a large black horse looming out of the darkness. Just like that it, it had come and gone. But she had seen it. It and the man with coal black hair and eyes of fire dressed in 19th century peasant clothes riding it.

Tomorrow, she would curse her own foolishness. Tomorrow, she would shake her head and scold herself for allowing herself to be so affected by Renate’s story. She would tell herself that she could afford no distractions as the festival drew closer.

But that was tomorrow. This was tonight and she needed to get the heck out of there.

She broke into a sprint and didn’t stop until she reached the gatehouse. She quickly hit the latch that lowered the wrought-iron gates and only then allowed herself to breathe easy. She walked on shaky legs back to her room. The horse hadn’t followed her. She couldn’t have imagined that, it seemed so real. But there were no such things as ghosts. All the same she could have sworn that as she left the clearing, she had heard a whisper on the night, a dark, rasped whisper followed by a chuckle.

“Come away, come away, come and ride with me into the night.”

Perhaps some legends were true after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? I have to admit to borrowing a couple ideas for this. So when Renate reminisces about all the stories she knows and she thinks of the one where the girl discovers that the love of her life is a duke? That comes from a book by Victoria Holt called "On the Night of the Seventh Moon," and it's fantastic! I strongly recommend it - I recommend most of her books, but that one's the best. It's about how Loki, the Norse god of mischief, has this annual celebration where mischief abounds and a young girl meets the love of her life during it. It gets a lot more complicated than that, but it's worth reading.
> 
> Second thing, Renate mentions the magical white wolf. I have to say this: hello, Isis! The White Wolf of Icicle Creek is one I'd really love to replay, but then I'd get to the Fox and Geese game and curse it out. I know I'm not alone in that either.
> 
> I tried to stick to the song pretty well, including Anja seeing the ghost out in the woods. Had to put a little touch of mystique in there. I think it worked, but please let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your comments. If you want, go listen to the song. It almost sounds like something you'd hear in Spain at a flamenco dance, it's quite fun. There's an instrumental version as well which really gives that impression. I hope you liked it. See you next time!


End file.
